The Summer of No Regrets (9 page)

chapter
sixteen

I stroked the feather across my palm and tucked it carefuly into my pocket. It had drawn back a curtain on my heart; I’d better close it fast while I still could.

A squirrel high on a cedar began a
pchieooo
that jerked his whole body with every cry. A drumbeat caught my ears: hard-soft, hard-soft—the rhythm of a heartbeat. I skirted a mossy stump and stopped just before the tree house. Dad stood in the clearing in full shaman mode.

His bare chest and face were painted with black-and-white stripes. More stripes went up his temples, cougarlike. This wasn’t the first of Dad’s rituals I had seen, but this new person who had stepped out of Dad’s body still caught me off guard.

After years of studying indigenous cultures as if they were in a petri dish, now he’d climbed into the dish himself.

Dad walked in a circle, around the base of Adam’s trunk, beating the drum with every step—PUM-pah, PUM-pah, TOE-heel, TOE-heel.

I wanted to go, but if I moved I’d call attention to myself.

He crouched and put his hands on his thighs. He began breathing, breathing. He stretched, clawed the air with his hands, twitched his butt like it had a tail attached; his spine undulated.

twitched his butt like it had a tail attached; his spine undulated.

I knew what he was doing: he was caling on Onawa, just like I had.

I almost envied him. It had been a long time since I’d folowed the animals’ movements. I could be uninhibited when I was little, but it’s different now. People see you; they make judgments.

And pretty soon you find out you’re alone. Maybe that’s why I hadn’t sensed the cougar when she was alive. Yet when I’d finaly caled her, Onawa had led me to her babies. Or rather, she had led Luke to her babies.

Luke! Turning my head, I saw him just out of Dad’s view. He would be stuck just as I was, reluctant to draw attention. How did Dad’s antics look to him? I felt suddenly alien, part of an alien clan. At Kwahnesum High School, people had caled The Center “that bizarro place in the woods.” Those people hadn’t mattered to me. Luke did.

Dad began to yowl. He crouched and sprang on what could only be described now as his hind legs. His eyes moved and his head folowed in a smooth motion. He looked fuly cat now in his every gesture. Except that he wasn’t a cat. For the first time I saw him as Malory did—disconnected from reality, possibly mentaly il. Was that what Luke saw?

Finaly, finaly, Dad drummed his way backward across the bridge and toward The Center. Luke stood and drifted to the base of Adam’s trunk where Dad had been having his fits. He would understand—he had to understand—that The Center was a place for spiritual things. I stood behind Eve for a moment and realized I was hiding. Luke turned around, and I let myself be seen. He took a step or two toward me, an odd expression on his face. His cell began ringing again. Once more, he silenced it in his pocket, then he waved, turned, and was gone.

I wanted to run after him, but I refuse to chase people. He had talked about prayer and the Garden of Eden. But that look, just before he walked away—it made me uneasy.

I fingered the cardinal feather. Malory was right. Dad had I fingered the cardinal feather. Malory was right. Dad had changed a lot, and quickly. But even if shamanism was a form of mental ilness, at least he was more honest. About most things.

Certain territory was off-limits.

The feather lay on my palm like a small flame.

•••

At Cherrywood cardinals were everywhere, along with rabbits, foxes, and bobcats. Nonni gave them all names from Beatrix Potter stories or from the Bible.

A few nights after Opa’s funeral, we were all on the screened-in porch. Malory was reading something she’d found in the attic.

I tried (unsuccessfuly) to nap on the chaise lounge. Mom shook Nonni’s rugs out the porch door and went to start tea. Dad stared into the woods, one hand on the screen. Nonni balanced a small tower of fabric scraps as she patched together what would be my Nonni coat. She was smiling distantly and singing,

“
When
peace
like
a
river
attended
my
way
—” Dad strode to the opposite screen and stared toward the road.

Nonni went on, “
When
sorrows
like
deep
billows
rolled
—” Dad sighed and drummed his fingers on the wood frame.

“
Whatever
my
lot, Thou has caused me to say
—” Dad stopped drumming.

“
‘It is well; it is well with my soul.’
” Dad pivoted.

“It is well
—
”

“Mom, enough.”

Nonni looked up. “Enough what?”

Dad leaned against the love seat, his hand gripping the wicker under the vinyl cushions. “You know what I mean.”

“No, Paul, I don’t. You’ll have to explain.” She fixed him with a steely expression I didn’t know she had. I was wide-awake now.

Dad straightened and ran his hands through his hair. “You always do this, Mom.”

She looked at him questioningly. Chalenging him. I’d never seen her like this.

“You never miss an opportunity to preach at me.” Nonni kept her mouth shut. She folded her hands in her lap, and the scrap tower scattered on the brick floor.

“There is nothing out there, Mom. You know it. I know it.

There are no fluttering angels bringing us manna, no Lazarus coming out of the grave. Nobody’s walking on water. It’s all very beautiful, but it’s just not true.”

Nonni didn’t answer, so Dad kept going. He was on a roll now, pacing across the bricks. “I am so sick of you acting like I am damned to hell because I won’t buy into your fantasy. I’ve got a goddamned master’s degree. I’ve studied more tribal mythologies than you can shake a stick at. They’re all trying to do the same thing: defeat death. And it can’t be done. We live; we die. Full stop. End of sentence.”

Nonni’s hands tightened around her remaining fabric scraps.

She pressed her lips together.

Dad swept his arms out. “This is what we have. This! Jesus isn’t coming down to catch Dad up in his fiery chariot. He is gone. And I’m tired as hellof your religious manipulation.”

“No one is manipulating you, Paul,” Nonni said quietly.

“Like hell you aren’t.” Dad threw open the porch door and slammed it shut behind him, heading for the woods.

Nonni put her head in her hands and began to cry. It was like nothing I’d ever heard before—high and fierce, like a wild bird.

Once, I’d read the word
keening
to describe crying like that. It was the first time I’d heard Nonni cry.

Mom came through the French doors carrying a tray of tea mugs. She set them on the table and went to Nonni. She put her arms around her from behind and leaned her head against arms around her from behind and leaned her head against Nonni’s. I huddled on the bricks at Nonni’s feet and took her hand. She ran her fingers through my hair and went on wailing and wailing. Malory stayed on the love seat, with tears running down her face. I must have been crying, too. We were like wolves making that noise they make at the moon. We were trying to find something we didn’t know we’d lost. We were trying to find each other and Opa and Dad in the great, dark night.

chapter
seventeen

“You’re quiet, Gita.” Mom and I squeegeed the windows in the meditation room. Rain dripped down the outside, which, to me, made window washing pointless.

Luke hadn’t come back. Last night, sleeping in the tree house yet again, I had awakened every hour and scanned the dark for him. And this morning I’d played with Felix and Kalimar extra long, hoping to hear his ambling steps in the leaves. But apparently I was kidding myself. His desertion gnawed at me, but even worse was the realization that the kittens’ lives were now entirely in my hands.

I found a
Caring
for
Kittens
book Nonni had given me for Ophelia when I was ten. Yesterday I had sneaked all the goat’s milk and most of our eggs to the downstairs kitchen and made

“emergency formula.” Felix had been so delighted he’d bitten the nipple off the bottle.

“Gita?” Mom stepped around the bucket. “Are you in there?” I sat back on my heels. “I’m fine, Mom.” I forced a smile. It I sat back on my heels. “I’m fine, Mom.” I forced a smile. It was 3:00. The formula was almost gone. What could they eat next?

Mom gave the window another rub while the rain jostled the sweet peas outside. “Is it Devon?”

Devon again. It was rotten that I kept using him as a cover. It would come back to bite me. I nodded.

“Oh, honey. Boys can be confusing, can’t they?” What would she think of Luke if I introduced them? Why hadn’t I? I was keeping a lot of secrets these days.

I’d told her I was spending another night with Natalie, banking on Natalie’s loyalty to cover for me one more time. It was getting easier to lie. It was like delivering a line for a play. I was a character in this play and maybe Luke was, too. But if that look on his face yesterday had been any indication, he may not be back for the curtain cal: the Schopenhauers had outweirded him.

Otherwise, why had he gone off like that without a word?

I dropped my squeegee into the water. “Why did Dad have to get so strange?”

Mom wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. “Is that what’s bothering you?”

I shrugged.

“Gita, I know he’s chosen a path that seems odd to some of the neighbors. Are they gossiping again?”

“No. It just
is
weird. He’s jumping around like a cougar and yowling and—it’s like six steps beyond you and your friends howling at the moon last summer. At least you didn’t wear face paint.”

Mom caught my eye. She remembered me leaping around the woods like a deer. I got busy with the squeegee.

Mom smiled a secret smile. “Wel.” She folded her hands in her lap. “It’s more interesting than the way the Christians pray.” I remembered Nonni and Opa’s church and the people faling down on the floor. “Not much,” I said. But I’d liked it at Nonni’s church. And I liked Jesus, all full of light and magic. I even talked to him sometimes, though I could never tell Dad that.

Mom had always kept quiet about her beliefs. I think she’d had to with Dad the Doubter. Once or twice I’d found a bowl of milk out in the grass after a ful-moon night—something you gave the fairies for their revels.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I shouldn’t say negative things about Christians. I know you loved your grandparents.” I shrugged again. Even though it felt like a truck ran me over every time I thought about Nonni and Opa.

And Dad. When I thought about Dad right now my head hurt.

Dad with his drum and his face paint and his dancing. Dad and his sweat lodge and his animal spirits. He would have laughed at all that before. “There’s nothing there,” he would have said. And now he was a spirit world unto himself—he’d found his own Eden, after dispensing with mine—if I had even known where mine was.

The sound of a car in the driveway ended Mom’s questioning session. “That must be Alana from Parents of Indigo Children.

She wanted to see the dorms before Thursday.” A red Porsche was parked outside. Out of it climbed a tal, thin man with a brown beard. He wore a Greek fisherman’s cap and a tidy raincoat. Mom extended her hand. “I’m Clare,” she said. “I was expecting Alana. Are you here to see the dorms?” The guy took her hand. “No, actualy, I don’t know an Alana.

I’m Webster Lampson. I’m here to colect Malory.” He winced as a raindrop hit his face.

Mom’s smile wavered. “Ah!” she said. “Malory is not here.

She’s running some errands for me. Won’t you come in?” Webster Lampson studied us, the driveway, the entrance of The Center. He was getting wet. “Yes,” he said, “I think I wil.” I’m not good at guessing ages, but this guy was old. Almost as old as my parents. He must have been like forty or something.

Dad was in his office tapping numbers into a ten key when we Dad was in his office tapping numbers into a ten key when we came into the foyer. “Paul.” Mom stuck her head in. “We have a visitor.”

Dad came out wearing his wolf sweatshirt. His ponytail was held with this bone and feather thing that dangled from the nape of his neck. “Paul Schopenhauer.” He shook Webster Lampson’s hand.

“Schopenhauer.” Webster Lampson grinned. “Malory tels me that great German mind was a relative of yours.”

“Distant cousin,” said Dad. “You aren’t here about the Indigo Children?”

Webster chuckled. “I should say not,” he said, “though I have heard of their movement. An article on pseudoscience in one of the journals.”

I disliked him more moment by moment.

“I see,” said Dad. “Can I get you anything? We have fresh goat milk from the neighbors. And there’s tea.”
No
goat
milk,
I thought.
Don’t let them check the goat
milk and find out it’s all gone.

“We just got some very potent oolong tea,” said Mom. “It’s great as a colon cleanser.”

“I’ll pass,” said Webster. “I had an espresso on the way here.

Any idea when Malory will be back?”

“Malory is here!” My sister shouldered her way in the door, dropping her packages on the floor, and flung herself at Webster Lampson.

She wound her arms around his neck, and he hugged her to him. “Here’s my best student,” he said. “Is she not beautiful?”

“Yes,” said Dad grimly. “We think so.”

“Wel, my love,” said Webster Lampson. “Are you ready to go?”

“Go?” said Mom.

“Yes,” said Webster. “You didn’t mention this to them, Maly?” He nodded to Dad. “We’re taking a few days at the coast.”

coast.”

Malory at least had the decency to blush. “I, um, haven’t finished packing yet, Webster.” She tried to look at Dad, but only succeeded in looking past him at Mom’s knuckles. “Dr.

Lampson is researching coastal environments and their impact on brain chemistry. I said I’d help him with some fieldwork this week. You know—two heads are better than none.”

“Paul,” said Mom. “Why don’t you give Dr. Lampson a tour of The Center? Dr. Lampson, I’m sure you’ll find the Earthship concept fascinating. It may even take your research in a new direction.” She began picking up Malory’s dropped packages.

“Malaboo, please help me put these away, dear. We’ve so much to do in three days.”

Webster looked as if he was about to protest, but when Malory went meekly with Mom, he folowed Dad downstairs.

I took the chance to slip out. Kalimar and Felix were snuggled in a furry heap out of the rain, like two spotted plush toys. still no Luke. I puled up the hood of my raincoat and gave them the last two bottles of formula. Felix ate sloppily, goat milk dribbling onto his chest. Kalimar was more fastidious. They drank it al.

Now what? Should I just start them on cat food?

If Luke had a car, he could drive us to town. I’d never thought to ask him. Maybe he was sick. Maybe he was wasting away from some rare ilness that came from handling cats. It had come on suddenly in the night, and now he was weak, covered in spots, longing for me to bring him some cool water. Maybe his mother kept asking him to get out of bed and hang pictures, and he was trying to do her bidding because he was such a dutiful son and hoping against hope that I would come and rescue him. I would help him through the woods on my shoulder and tend him in my own bed. Mom’s tea would heal him. No! Cancel the tea.

I gave Kalimar a final pat and hiked in the direction of the Geoffrey place. I could just check.

At the property line I peered out at Luke’s rainy driveway.

At the property line I peered out at Luke’s rainy driveway.

How hard could it be to knock on the door? A light was on in one of the upstairs windows. Was Luke inside?

But if he was inside, why hadn’t he come back? He’d promised to help me with the kittens, and he hadn’t even given me his phone number or email.

I put my hand on a maple trunk and let the rain drip off my hood. What if I had lost him before anything had even started?

I’d be languishing in my tree house when I was seventy in a faded tank top. The rats would be scuttling over my granola bars. Every day Natalie would send me a bag of Cheetos in the puley bucket. And there I would finish my days, desolate, with only the depressing poems of John Donne to comfort me.

I turned around and trudged back to The Center. I had kittens to care for.

•••

Mom and Dad were distracted enough with Malory’s “friend” that I was able to get back online and track down an exotic pets website. It said that once they were weaned, big cats could be fed cat food two to three times a day. How was I to know whether they were weaned? I didn’t even know how old they were. But with no goat milk and no Pedialyte, I was going to have to try.

Looking at the exotic pets site made me think I could make this work. Most people had enclosures for their exotic animals, but Felix and Kalimar weren’t “pets.” They deserved to roam free in the woods where they’d been born. It was the least I could do for them. If I could learn how to care for them properly, they could live out their lives with us in peaceful coexistence. That was how Dad said we were supposed to live with the animals—to share the forest with them and respect their wisdom.

I bought thirty-five cans of cat food at Family Grocer—all I I bought thirty-five cans of cat food at Family Grocer—all I could fit in my backpack and still make it up the hill on my bike.

•••

I didn’t dare spend another night in the tree house. Besides, it would be cold with the rain. I had to hope Malory would sleep soundly enough for me to sneak out.

Malory was quiet all through dinner. Webster wasn’t there, but he came back about 8:00, and Dad gave him a dorm room downstairs. No one told me what had happened while I was gone. Malory seemed cowed at first, but as the evening went on, she began to shoot little dagger looks at Dad. She was unpacking her suitcase when I came out from brushing my teeth.

“Are you staying home?”

“Not that this is home,” she snapped.

“Did you think they wouldn’t freak out? I thought they did pretty wel. They’re letting him stay here, aren’t they? How old is he, anyway?”

“Brigitta, that is irrelevant. Besides, I am more than usualy mature for my age. You know that.”

“Does he give you As?” It was nasty of me.

Malory slammed her duffel bag onto the shelf. “I am not even going to answer that!”

I put my cell phone underneath my pilow, with the alarm set for midnight, hoping only I would hear it. I needn’t have worried.

When it woke me, Malory’s bed was empty.